


Five times Vera annoyed the hell out of Randall and one time she was the MVP

by BeaRyan



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, references to oral sex drugs addiction and dysfunctional relationship, so college typical stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28532232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan
Summary: Post-series dynamics.  Starts with a focus on the rest den.
Relationships: Hamish Duke/Vera Stone, The Pack - Relationship
Comments: 13
Kudos: 24





	Five times Vera annoyed the hell out of Randall and one time she was the MVP

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Vera is trying to manipulate her conversation partner in section five. Her drive is behavior modification, not education or appearing correct.

ONE

Gabrielle pulled the pillow tighter over her head and Randall cursed his life. It used to be just him, Lilith and Hamish at the den. A small, happy family who bit the bad guys, did some homework and just hung out. Then Silverback decided Jack should join the family and that had been fine. Eventually. Then Lilith and Nicole started dating, Midnight pounced on Gabi, and Hamish went full mother hen on Vera when she lost her powers. It wasn’t a wolf den anymore. It was a sex den. 

Gabi threw her pillow across the room knocking everything off his dresser. 10/10 anger expression. 0/10 helpfulness. “It sounds like a feral, homeless man eating soup.” 

It wasn’t worth responding. Anything he said could and would be used against him. They’d have a little group chat in the morning to remind everyone that 11pm to 7am were quiet hours, and a marathon session of hot and sloppy wasn’t quiet to a werewolf’s ears. 

Or maybe it wasn’t a marathon session. Maybe it was just Nicole and Lilith each getting a turn. That would account for it taking forever for them to shut up and let him get some sleep. Good for them? Yeah. Good for them. Get it, girls.

The trembling exhale might as well have been coming from the other side of his bed for as loud as it was to his heightened hearing and the moan was a scream in his ear. “Oh Hamish!” 

Vera fucking Stone was at it again. Doing whatever worked for her and screw everyone else. They were definitely going to have a house meeting in the morning. 

TWO

In her apron Vera looked like a kinky Betty Crocker. She smiled and announced, “Soup's on!” 

Hamish brushed her cheek with a kiss as he passed. “I told you you didn’t have to cook.” 

“I didn’t have to, but everyone does need to eat. Not like it’s the first time I’ve catered for this group.” 

Randall fought down yet another snarky comment, but he was sick of using manners in his own house. Vera had never catered a damn thing for him and designating herself as their group mom was annoying. 

Jack didn’t seem to mind her attitude, or at least he wanted to eat more than he wanted to call her out. He leaned over the pot, stirred and deeply inhaled. “Chili. Hell yeah.” 

Randall waited his turn - In line. In his own kitchen - Then scooped up a big bowl. “All beans, no meat? Are we a sorority now?” 

Lilith leveled him with a glare. “That’s sexist, Nicole is a vegetarian, and you can live without meat for one meal.” 

Sour cream, chopped onions, grated cheese, hot sauce and other assorted toppings were spread out on the kitchen island and Randall added a lot of everything to make up for the absence of meat then tasted it and added more hot sauce. Of course it was weak chili. Hamish was Vera’s favorite and he didn’t like spicy food. He blamed it on an ulcer but really, sometimes he was just a bland person. “Jack, you’re missing the cheese there, man.” 

“I love cheese, but it doesn’t love me back.”

File that under things he didn’t know. 

Gabrielle was being weird about food as always and hadn’t even gotten a bowl yet. Vera noticed, too, and had a quick whispered conversation with her then pointed to the containers she’d used for beans and spices gathered on a cookie sheet on one corner of the cabinet. Gabi tried to be subtle as she made her way over to inspect the ingredients. 

It was stupid and Randall wasn’t going to watch Vera coddle a potential eating disorder. “A little gluten isn’t going to kill you, and there’s none in beans anyway.” 

“What do you know,” Gabrielle retorted. “Cross-contamination is a thing and only certain brands of anything are safe.” 

Hamish put a hand on Randall’s shoulder. “I don’t know if taking the hide cures celiac or not, but I do know that I don’t want to see how Midnight manages an upset bowel.” 

Gabi didn’t have celiac. Did she? He’d never asked, just assumed her eating habits were a skinny, trend following, rich girl thing. 

Vera gestured casually with her spoon. “They’re the same brands we use at the temple. We had an acolyte with fairly severe gluten allergy several years ago and made the appropriate adjustments for him and for the benefit of future acolytes.” 

Her bowl clattered as Nicole set it on the table. “It’s on purpose? Of course it is. It had to be.” 

The group turned to look at her, awaiting an explanation. 

“In New Orleans, for long spells, the Temple Magus would just order a bulk portion of whatever her favorite restaurant had on special that day. Because I don’t eat meat a lot of times I’d have to eat whatever snacks I had on me or in my locker. Angus said in California they just didn’t eat until they were done for the day. At Belgrave there’s always been a real main dish I could eat.” 

“Same with the no dairy thing,” Jack said. “Most clubs just order a bunch of pizzas and I pull off the cheese if I’m having a bad day, but there’s always been something for dinner for me, too.” 

Vera shrugged. “Sacrifice is a requirement. Silence, subservience, and observance are rules. Needless suffering is just a tradition, and not one worth keeping. I make sure all my students get at least a few decent meals a week.” 

Randall had never been impressed by the food at the temple, but he resented it marginally less now that he knew there was a reason for the potato bars and soups. Didn’t much care for Vera labeling them all as “her students” though. 

THREE

The den reeked of chemicals and it sucked. He couldn’t technically see the cloud of chlorine bleach from the bottom of the front steps, but Randall could feel it attacking his senses. Barely visible inside the house was Vera annoying one of the windows with a spray bottle and a wad of paper towels. Of course she’d be the one to deny him a beer at home after a long day. He fired off a text to Hamish. “Meet me at the bar.” Things had to change. 

FOUR

Hamish was practically vibrating, and it was ruining what should have been a good OGs’ night in. Gabi had declared them all too annoying to deal with when she had cramps and Vera had gone back to her home, too. That meant it was finally time for quality time with the pack. The real pack. The crew who’d originally stood against The Order, people who’d been wolves more than two years, people who valued the cultural importance of beer pong. 

How was it possible that they didn’t play beer pong anymore? Yeah, there was pong, but Hamish wasn’t drinking alcohol and tea didn’t really diminish capacity enough for it to be a fair competition. If they’d been deciding anything more important than pizza toppings this would have been a problem. One day they’d have a pong worthy decision to make. Something like killing Jack or joining The Order, and then with Hamish basically benched forever Randall would have to play either Lillith or Jack or maybe eventually Gabrielle and it just wouldn’t be the same. 

Jack slipped on his coat. “I’m out of here.” 

_I think the fuck not._ “What? No. You can’t. It’s Gender Neutral Collective night.”

“I have a bed in my dorm and a bed in Pete’s old house and both are more comfortable than the couch.” 

“Jack.” Randall hated that he was whining, but sometimes whining worked. 

“Randall, I’m going home. The fluff bunnies burned through their entire leadership structure when they went head to head with The Order. They aren’t doing anything anymore and if they were we’d hear the ringing.” 

“And what about The Order? They could turn against us like that.” He snapped his fingers and knew he sounded like an eleven year old. 

“If Hamish really thought they were going to overthrow Vera tonight she’d be here, and yeah, I’d stay and protect the weak and all that, but she’s home and I’m going home too.”

Then Randall made his big mistake. He turned to Hamish for support. “Tell Jack that Vera’s fine.”

Hamish’s jaw twitched. “Vera is at home, alone, without magic.” He grabbed his keys. “You want a ride?” 

And they left. 

Lilith barely seemed to notice or care. “You still want pizza or should we just get burgers from the bar?” 

“This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.” 

The ball plunked into a cup in front of Randall. “I choose the bar. Drink.” Randall emtiped the red plastic cup, and Lilith continued. “And for the record, I’m not joining that pout you’re working up. I don’t trust it when things look like they’re going my way. Better to know it’s all crap. Then you’re adjusting instead of flailing.” 

FIVE

Possibly Vera was from 1980 instead of straight from Hell. Her phone was ringing, like actually ringing. A bell sound poked Randall in the ear and interrupted the equally weird sound of Gabrielle, Nicole, Vera and Jack dipping their hands in hot wax. Sure, people had died at the den before, but beauty treatments? It was too much.

Vera held up her still sticky hands and smiled at Hamish. “Can you get that for me?” 

Like a good little pet, he obeyed. Like a man who’d finally snapped awake he asked, “Why is my mother calling you?” 

“I’m the chancellor and you’re in the fifth year of a two year program.”

“She has your cell phone number?” 

Vera shrugged. “For the amount of money your parents have donated to the school they could have a key to my house if they wanted it.” 

“Your hands are wet. You should take this on speaker.” With his professor voice on full blast he said, “Everyone will stay quiet while you do.” 

Hamish sat next to Vera and answered the call while the group held their breath. 

Like a business owner trying to suck money out of a customer, Vera started the conversation. “Carolyn! So good to hear from you. Where in the world are you?” 

“Just Connecticut. I was hoping we might come up to the university soon to see Hamish defend his dissertation.” 

“Well, I’m not involved in the day to day business of the philosophy department, but if it would help I can check and see if that’s scheduled.” She gave Hamish a look and he shook his head no. “I don’t see a time booked, but not everyone publicly defends. Let me see if he’s turned in his paper yet.” Hamish again shook his head no. Vera conveyed the information with a disappointed sound to Carolyn Duke then said brightly, “Well, his teaching reviews are still stellar and if he ever decides to transition from student to faculty I look forward to offering him a job.” 

“Are these real, verifiable reviews or that filth that’s barely in English on Rate My Prof?” 

“What did you see on there that concerned you?” Vera asked. 

“My hairstylist explained to me what DILF is. I could have gone my entire life without knowing some overheated teenager thought my unmarried son was a father she’d like to … you know.” 

“I do know. Every generation has its own vocabulary, but they’ll publicly call any man over 22 ‘daddy.’ It’s so infuriating. I just want to tell them ‘You gave him four dollars and he gave you a coffee. At no point did the barista and the other customers in this Starbucks agree to be a part of your sexual fantasies. For a generation so concerned with consent and respect for the working class they fail at both rather often. But they do know how well their teachers communicate the material.” 

“Nonbinary.” Carolyn Duke spit the word. “My daughter is bringing home her partner” - sarcasm dripped from the word - “and this person is nonbinary.” 

“As I said before, every generation has their own vocabulary. Gen Z has written an entire dictionary when decent people used to respectfully mind our own business. Boys Don’t Cry won an Oscar before most of the current labels weren’t known to anyone outside of the extreme corners of academia. Prince, David Bowie, Boy George, and KD Lang were internationally famous 30 and 40 years ago, and I couldn’t tell you what label any of them would use if they were part of this generation. The language has changed, but nothing’s been invented that hasn’t been around as long as people have been people.” 

Vera laughed, a fake, hollow sound that sent a chill through the room chasing after the bomb Hamish’s mom had tried to detonate. Vera continued, “I guess I shouldn’t be so hard on them. Betty Ford is an absolute icon for getting people to talk about breast cancer and addiction. Eunice Kennedy Shriver changed the world’s perception of disability. I guess we’ll just have to give the kids a few decades and see if they can get the world to embrace another previously shunned group.”

Randall hated her rich bitch attitude, hated her condescending statements about Gen Z as a bunch of word fetishists who didn’t know history, and generally disliked this entire conversation. Wasn’t real fond of Hamish’s mom, either. Which one was the bigger problem: the judgemental translator or the person so checked out they didn’t even realize they needed a translation?

“Anyhow, Carolyn, sorry for the rant. It’s been a rough social justice year on campus. Everyone wants to seize the means of production and no one wants to work in the factory, but that doesn’t have anything to do with you. You have every reason to be proud. You have a strong, independent daughter who’s bold enough to find the right partner for her and who trusts you enough to bring that partner home for an introduction. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time. Is Anne’s partner a Belgrave alumnus? I could check up on them for you.” 

“No need.” Carolyn’s imperious confidence had returned. “All I need from you is Hamish’s doctorate.”

“I’d write the paper for him if I could, but the ball is in his court.” 

“Then I guess I should be speaking with him instead of you.” 

She hung up on Vera. Hamish’s phone buzzed immediately. 

AND ONE TIME 

Randall heard the footfalls on the stairs and quietly closed the fridge door. It wasn’t anyone’s business if he wanted to put half a pound of ham on a stale hotdog bun and call it a hoagie, and he wasn’t going to justify his choices if he could avoid it. Besides, what was whoever - he listened again for the weight and rhythm of the steps - oh hell no - what was Vera doing up in the middle of the night anyway? 

Worrying, he reminded himself. She was worrying. Based on a few gossip reports and her social media she’d concluded the gnostic council was convening in Washington DC to decide what to do about their powerless Grand Magus. 

The front door creaked, and at 2AM Vera Stone let herself out of the den. 

That was a bad sign. Was she selling them out in an attempt to save herself? Meeting with the farm cult who’d tried to turn Jack into a tree to see if they could give her some juice? Were vampires a thing? It was easy to picture her turning into mist, slipping under the door, and sucking the life out of Hamish. 

Heh heh. Sucking Hamish. 

Through the window he saw the flare of a lighter about a hundred yards from the house then the glow of the tip of a cigarette. Vera was a secret smoker. Wouldn’t have guessed that. 

He should wait to see if she met up with anyone. Confront her if she did.

All she did was smoke. Deep inhales, holding her breath, and then slow, steady exhales. 

No way. 

He slipped out the side door and sniffed the air to confirm his suspicions then crept up on her. In his best RA voice he said, “Exactly what is going on here?” 

Unsatifyingly, she didn’t didn’t jump at the interruption. “It’s legal under state law and not enforced as campus policy as long as it’s 100 feet from a building. Since I don’t see any feds…” She held the roach out to him for a turn. 

He wasn’t going to let her off that easy. “But what would Hamish say?” 

That got her. “This was never one of his vices?” There was panic there, too much to make teasing her fun. 

“No smoking for Hamburger. His grandfather died of lung cancer.” 

She tried to fake casual, but he could see she was still rattled. He didn’t like it. With forced casualness she said, “I’d assumed Tundra just didn’t allow anything illegal. You all are the law after all.” 

She’d said ‘Tundra didn’t allow’. She knew about the bad old days. Hamish had told her. It felt like a betrayal. Maybe she didn’t know everything. The ‘you all’ meant she couldn’t. But she’d offered him a hit, so that meant she thought the limit was just Tundra. She knew. Maybe. Hell, he didn’t even know what Hamish knew. 

It had all been so messy his first year with Graybeard. Messy in a different way than it was now. 

What did she know? Better to just ask. “What did Hamish tell you?” 

Vera laughed, a stoned but lady-like laugh, not a Karen but a Katherine maybe. “I don’t know what you know either, and I’m not interested in burning down your dysfunctional little family over things that happened years ago. You’re going to need each other.” She took another hit then offered it to him again.

Randall took the joint and toked. Might as well. This was the first and probably last and only time he’d ever see her like this. 

The stuff did its work and he felt the tension recede. It never left, ever, but this was better. It was easy to understand how addiction happened. Why wolves had fallen in the hole. 

He wanted to know what she knew, what Hamish had told her, what she knew of the wolves that came before him that Hamish wouldn’t talk about. He wanted to know if Hamish knew what he knew. Randall didn’t like secrets, and he was stuck with a big one. 

_Make her an offer._ “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. We trade, question for question, answer for answer.” 

“Knowledge often brings the opposite of peace.”

“You’re really going to tell me that when you’re standing in the yard burning one because you can’t stand not knowing what’s going on in DC?” 

“They’re deciding if they’re going to kill me, keep me as a slave, or pull so much of my memory I’ll be diagnosed with a brain injury.” 

“So spill your secrets while you still know them. You can even ask the first question.”

She glanced back at the den. “You’re sure we’re far enough away that they won’t hear?” 

“We can sit in your car.” 

“There’s no smoking in my car.” 

He took a huge pull and handed what was left to her. After inhaling she crushed the ember under her shoe and picked up her trash. Struggling not to exhale, they made their way to her car. Vera blew a single, perfect smoke ring then opened the driver’s door. It took a moment to weigh the satisfaction of stinking up her luxury car against picking her brain, and with only a little hesitation Randall exhaled. 

Same color leather as Hamish. No wood accents either. Hamish thought they were tacky and had paid extra to keep them out of his car. 

Once the interior light went out Vera asked her question. “What was your opinion of Cassie?” 

Fuck. She was starting big. What did she know? She was chancellor. She had to know some of it. She’d have been involved in having Cassie banned from campus. “I mean, she sold drugs, so, you know, not ideal but everyone needs an income, right?” 

“This was your game, Randall. Cut the shit.” 

She’d used his first name and she’d cursed. Finally, Vera was being real, and he would give her a real answer. “Cassie liked fucking freshmen and …” How had she phrased it? “Refreshing the pack. She burned through six Midnights the year we overlapped. We called him Cannon Fodder but it wasn’t really the hide’s fault.”

“That’s… interesting. As I understood it she and Hamish were together from a few weeks before he turned until she died six years later.” 

Until now Randall hadn’t known how long they’d been together before Hamish had taken the hide. Weeks seemed about in line with her pace. “Together doesn’t mean monogamous. He makes it better than it was in his mind.” Randall had heard the fights. Hamish’s desire to be enough for her. His desire to be a knight instead of a fling that never fully ended. The grudging consent in their consensual non-monogamy. “My turn for a question. Was Hamish supposed to be a Midnight and Tundra jumped the line?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t think he does either. He had coke dick and she sent him to the basement to come down. He did know about the hides before he went down there and had already agreed to become a wolf, but they hadn’t talked about how and when.”

“What’s coke dick?” 

“When you do too much cocaine and can’t get an erection.” 

Randall really felt like they should have covered that in one of his premed classes. He needed to tell the chancellor that the sex ed portion of his education at this stuffy, Ivy Little League school was falling short. 

Instead he got the giggles. Coke dick. Hamish the cokehead. Ridiculous. He’d heard that Hamish used to like amphetamines - Aderall in high school and cocaine until Tundra made him stop - but he couldn’t picture it. High achiever Hamish. Pre-law Hamish. Teenage internet daytrader Hamish. It was a far cry from the drunken philosopher dragging out his program as long as possible that Randall knew and loved. 

Laughter being contagious and pot being pot, Vera caught the giggles too, first fighting a few chuckling peeps then full belly laughs. She even snorted - which was great - before loudly proclaiming, “It’s not still a problem!” which made them both laugh even harder. 

When they’d both finally gotten their breath back she asked, “Cassie’s proclivities aside, what’s the normal process for new knights?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The Order takes three acolytes per semester. You wouldn’t know it from the past two years, but normally that’s enough to keep us around 20 active undergrads, which is what we need. What’s the screening, refreshment, and training process for the wolves?” 

That’s right. They were playing the questions game. Of course Vera would stick to the established structure even when stoned and trying to have fun. “We don’t have one. Like I said, Cassie controlled who became Midnight. Graybeard had been lockered for two years before Hamish asked me if I wanted to join. He thought I’d be into the knight thing. I don’t know how long anyone else was lockered between champions. Cassie said Greg, the guy who brought her in, told her Silverback was broken and to leave him alone so we did. Silverback jumped Jack just like Midnight jumped Gabi.”

Vera pressed back into her seat and sighed. “That’s magic. Just like the Vadi Macum, the hides want to live.”

The thought felt heavy, heavier than the ideas he usually entertained about the hides. Unlike the others his wolf rarely bugged him. Hamish had floated the idea that it was because Graybeard and Randall were well synced, that he’d chosen well when he picked Randall, but who knew for sure. Randall kept Graybeard fed and exercised and he’d let him know when danger was near. It was more like having a dog than he wanted to admit. Others had a very different experience. 

“You omitted Lilith.” 

“She was a friend of Cassie’s -”

“Friend?” Vera’s tone implied everything the pack never discussed. 

“Special friend, but I’m not sure Hamish knows that. Future Midnight if she lived long enough to take the hide. She shouldn’t have been out on a hunt with us, but she was. Fell behind. Cassie doubled back to get her and got hit by a car.”

“She died nude in the middle of the road as I recall. Given her known substance abuse issues there wasn’t much of an investigation.”

It had stung at the time. Druggie jumped in front of a car while high. That’s how the world remembered a champion. For all her faults she’d done a lot of good, too, and almost no one knew. “We grabbed Lilith and drug her back to the den with us just to get her to calm down and keep the secret of the knights. She stormed into the basement and screamed at the lockers for a while. She became Timber that night.” 

“Timber was lockered for just a few hours between champions?” 

He nodded. “My turn. Why’d you cut Lillith from The Order the first time?” 

“She flunked a drug test.”

“The Order drug tests?”

“Anyone less than Gnostic Council, every time you walk through the door. Stimulants and magic usually go together very poorly. It’s dangerous for everyone. Do you remember bath salts?”

“The drug that made people superpowered, face eating zombies? I don’t remember it, but we studied it. Was that magic?” 

“For the most part no, but an extreme reaction can look similar. Practitioners become hard to stop and indifferent to the well being of others. Sometimes openly violent, sometimes it’s more of a slow burn.” She rolled her head to look at him. “Don’t judge Cassie too harshly. Or Lilith. Hamish might be a very different person if Tundra had been more permissive.” 

Mental sirens flared. “What do you mean about Lilith. Is she on something? Were you training us in magic last year even knowing it was dangerous because you just wanted the wolves that badly?”

Vera was unflappable. “She’s been clean this entire academic year. That doesn’t mean her wolf has fully healed from whatever was done before. Ms. Bathory has sharper edges now than she did her freshman year. It could just be life experience, but who’s to say all that experience came from _her_ life?”

This was deep and sad and not fun. Getting stoned with the grand chancellor should be fun. “So are you and Hamish getting married?” 

Vera laughed, a big, hearty, rolling howl. “The way things are going we’ll both be dead in under a month.” 

She kept laughing until she was swiping at tears and kept wiping them away after the laughs had passed. “He’s not going to want to run, but you need to make him. Make all of them. The Order exists to serve itself. As long as I turn out well-educated legacies they’ve let me bring in more diverse students, too, but it’s been tolerated, not encouraged.”

“Three white guys and Lilith. Real diverse.” 

“Two openly not straight. Two on scholarship. Four wolves.”

“Five now,” he corrected.

“No one knows yet about Ms. Dupres and I suggest you keep it that way as long as possible. People know you’re dating but they also know she’s well attuned to her own interests.” 

“They’ll really kill us just for being wolves?” He knew they would. The species-ism had hit hard when Kyle was on the prowl with a knife and flared again during the Grand Magus showdown and as soon as Praxis struck. Angus and Selena knew them personally and still turned on them without hesitation.

“For being wolves. For your assumed loyalty to me. For robbing The Order. For all the members of The Order you’ve killed.”

“They were attacking us,” he protested. 

“The practitioners in Edward’s house who had no idea they were escorting his son to his death instead of to safety? You were innocently breaking and entering and they attacked you?” 

“Kind of.” They had kidnapped Maddox for his own good and the good of the world, and if they’d had to take out some people who were directly contributing to Bad Magic to do it then so be it, but he understood protecting and avenging your own. To get to Vera The Order would have to take out Hamish and then the wolves would want revenge.

Vera sighed, more focused than she’d been before. Happy stoned time was slipping away from them. “I suggested putting the lockers with the Sons of Prometheus if they’ll take them. Hamish said he’d think about it.”

It wasn’t a bad plan. Jack hadn’t reported a lot of ringing when he was with them so whatever they were doing wasn’t inherently bad even if it hadn’t been great for Jack personally. The lockers were bulky, not great for a life on the run. It would keep the hides out of The Order’s control when they eventually lost the war. He didn’t want to lose but they were outnumbered. “You’re really out of ideas?” 

“I gave you my plan. Run. Make them all run with you. I own a farm that’s behind several layers of corporate cover. Hamish knows where it is. Leave a note declaring a 30 year truce and go. Refresh the protective wards and hide until you aren’t a priority. Call it a draw and live to fight another day.” 

“That’s the best you’ve got?” 

She dipped her head, thinking. “Go tonight, before they finish in DC. I can teach you a sleep spell and the wards. Stack them all in the SUV like firewood and go. Wake them up when you get there.” 

“You just jumped from a reasonable suggestion to a very strange one.” 

“You should already be gone. You can’t count on Hamish.” Her voice was hardening. He liked this version of her less. Maybe whether or not he liked someone wasn’t important. 

“We can always count on Hamish.” 

“Then why are you still here?” she snapped. She winced, then more softly she said, “Grand Maguses rarely get emeritus status. They definitely aren’t allowed to wander off into the sunset with enemies of The Order. I know too much.” She grasped Randall’s hand. “You have to make him go without me.” 

“Can’t. And it won’t work anyway. If we disappear on your watch they’re definitely going to kill you to find out where we are.”

“I’ve thought through my exit. Powder me. Rob and beat me somewhere I’ll be found. Make sure to include a head injury so the civilian medical system has their explanation. In your truce note mention that you’ve neutralized me.” 

She didn’t play around, he had to give her that. She also hadn’t thought through her plan. “Memories can be restored.” 

She opened her glove box, pulled out a book, and handed it to him. “The original printing of the restoration spell you used. I can show you how to erase all copies. Take the original with you.” 

“Hamish will kill me.” 

“The Order will kill you all. Or worse.” Her smile looked like a grimace. “I drug you into The Order. This is how I get you out.”

“I’ll talk to Lilith. If she thinks it’s a good idea I’ll talk to Jack.” 

“You need to do it tonight.” 

“No way I can do that without waking Hamish.” 

“Sleeping spell.” She was so matter of fact it scared him. As if drugging Hamish and turning everyone against him was no big deal. 

If she was wrong... 

But she wasn’t. He wanted her to be, mostly for Hamish’s sake but also for her own.

Was there another option? If there was they’d have found it. Wait for the attack, attack first, hide. Those were the options. There was no outcome where they all lived together happily ever after. Vera’s plan was the only one he’d heard with a chance they’d all live.

*** 

At 5:30 AM, disguised by a glamor, Randall and Jack robbed an already powdered Vera in the parking lot of a gas station while Hamish slept in the car two miles away. The wolves crossed the forest quickly, and they were on the road when the ambulance passed them racing towards the gas station. At 1 PM the news reported the chancellor had survived but was being held for observation at the hospital due to a suspected brain injury. By 7 PM Hamish was drunk. 

***

EPILOGUE: EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER

Hamish, disguised by a glamor, wiped down the bar in front of the approaching customer. “You look tired, chancellor.” 

She sighed and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear revealing the scar above her eyebrow from when she’d hit the pavement in the gas station. She’d mostly succeeded in hiding it with makeup, and he tried not to stare. He didn’t want to scare her. At this moment she didn’t know him and wouldn’t appreciate his attention. 

“Party fatigue,” she said. “December is good for university fundraising, but this is my fifth formal event in two weeks. Got anything with caffeine back there?” 

“I’ve got just what you need if you’re willing to do a shot.” 

“Hit me.” Her smile was polite but tight. Distant. Her next order would be to lock up the bar and go home. 

He pushed the blue liquid in front of her. “All at once.” 

“Care to drink with me?” 

“Had one earlier.”

She swallowed slowly then her eyes went wide. It was terrifying to watch. She was either coming back to him or dying. Her hand jerked in the air, and he grabbed it, steadying her, while she sucked great, rasping breaths. Lilith had warned their brains might shrivel if they didn’t drink it quickly enough. He didn’t remember trembling when the wolves had done this, and they’d all been more vocal. If it was working the potion was undoing far more memory manipulation than they’d experienced. Maybe it wouldn’t even work. Maybe her memory loss was physical instead of magical. He hadn’t been there when Randall and Jack… he still couldn't think about it without getting angry. 

Professor Raymond, a member of the math department and particularly vicious Order member, approached and Hamish thought he saw a flash of recognition in Vera’s eyes but it was gone before he could be sure. She gave his hand a squeeze before releasing -- “Thank you for steadying me” -- then traced her fingers over the scar on her forehead. 

“Everything OK here?” The professor’s tone was more than polite. It was inquisitive, searching for a foothold.

“Migraine. With some dizziness. They happen when I stay up past my bedtime.” She laughed, fake but polite, and winced at her own movement. “Professor, you’ve expressed an interest in moving up the administration chain. Care to take over hosting this event so I can go lie down? There’s only an hour left.”

“Glad to.” 

“Thank you.” 

He bustled away, proud of his new responsibility and with no regard for his ailing colleague. Vera turned her attention to the bartender. “I can’t really look at screens when these headaches come on. I know it’s old fashioned, but can you call a cab for me?” 

“No need to wait fifteen minutes for a cab when you’re unwell. The party’s dieing and the bar manager has already started cutting staff. I’ll give you a ride.” 

His heart pounded. She’d given him no sign the potion had worked, but there were snakes in the crowd. He wouldn’t have chosen to give it to her here if he could have found another way, but after a month of working at Sword and Chalice this had been his first opportunity and he couldn't let it slip by. Had it worked? 

“Thank you for the offer, but I live all the way downtown.” 

“I thought the chancellor’s residence was on campus.” 

“That’s a conference center now. There was an incident.” Her fingers traced the scar again, and the faintest hint of a smile crossed her lips. “I felt safer somewhere with a doorman and moved into the Duke building.” 

Even without her memory, without him there, she’d turned to him for comfort. “What floor?”  
He had to keep his poker face at least until they were out of here, maybe longer if she didn’t have her memories. It was the only way to keep them both safe. Knowing what he now knew made that harder. 

“Top. The building owner has the river view and I have the city view.” 

He’d parked down the block and the walk to his car felt endless. She settled into his passenger seat and waited for the light to go out before asking, “What’s your name?” 

“Hamish.” 

He maneuvered them towards the campus exit. There had been so much magic and blood spilled here over the years, now that he’d been away and knew something different, the ground felt cursed. 

“Hamish.” She said the word like she was testing it, seeing how it felt in her mouth, if she liked its taste. “Hamish.” More confident this time. Hopeful. “Would you say you’ve changed a lot over the years, Hamish?” 

“I’d say I’m a different person than I was two hours ago.” 

He could hear her heart racing, see her fighting tears in the dim light. What was she thinking? How much of her memory had come back? He glanced at the dashboard clock. “Twenty minutes until we’ve got you home. Forty until I turn back into a pumpkin.” 

She looked at him inquisitively then scoffed. “You’re either a pumpkin or you’re not.” Her voice was strained, questioning, as she said, “There’s no such thing as magic.” 

Of all the possible outcomes denial of reality had never occurred to him. Maybe the potion would fail. Maybe she’d have moved on, fallen in love with someone else, been mad that he’d shattered the life and safety she’d built and drug her back into a world where magic was real but she didn’t have it. He was prepared for anger. Shutting down wasn’t a possibility he’d considered. Vera wasn’t the type to nope out. At least she hadn’t been before. 

“It’s OK, Vera. You know me. I’m Hamish Duke, and my apartment is as you remember it. We’ll go upstairs and you’ll see that all your memories are real.”

“Or you’ll shove me inside and murder me.” She pressed her head against the glass of the car window. “Only one way to find out I suppose.” 

She was silent the rest of the way home and on the ride up to the top floor. She had her hand in her purse, probably gripping mace or a gun, when she nodded towards his door without fully exiting the elevator. “Prove you can unlock it.” 

He did as she asked. This had to be hard for her. Even if she believed every one of her memories, how could she know he was who he said he was when his glamor was still in effect? He stepped into the apartment and joined the pack gathered in the kitchen around a stack of pizza boxes. Against the odds, all of them, even Gabrielle and Nicole, had survived eighteen months on The Order’s hit list. 

Vera stopped in the doorway, staring around the room, checking the details against her memory. He saw her gaze linger on the small bust of Seneca she’d bought for him for his birthday and the scarf of hers he kept on the hook by the door, a reminder of happier times.

“Where is she?” Randall mumbled, his mouth full of pizza. 

She stepped in and rounded the corner, revealing the pack clustered together, waiting for her. 

Vera smirked, that dry, knowing smile of hers he’d missed so dearly. “Mark this down as the first time I’ve been pleased to see Mr. Carpio.” 

“Hey,” Randall protested. 

“If someone wanted to get you to drop your guard, would they bring you to me?” 

“Fair, but the ‘hey’ still stands. You want some pizza?” 

“I want to know the rest of the plan.” 

Randall nudged the box towards her. “Eat pizza is about as far as it goes.” 

Hamish said, “We had an end goal, which has been achieved, and two pizzas, three slices of which we still have. We reluctantly accepted that you’d take over any further plans so we didn’t bother making them.” 

Vera placed a slice on one of the paper plates then dabbed it with a napkin to soak up the grease. She lifted it towards her mouth but stopped before she took a bite. “I still don’t have my power, but I know what needs to be done, and between you there’s enough magic to make it happen.” 

She was back.

**Author's Note:**

> Within the context of comments a keyboard smash is a complete thought.


End file.
